Cold Night
by Thymelady
Summary: AU. Guy comes home late on Christmas Eve, cold and lonely. But being cold and lonely was the past; there is warmth and love to be found at home. Spoilers: Maybe a blink to the S2 finale. Which S2 finale? *denial*


Disclaimer: Robin Hood 2006 belongs to BBC and Tiger Aspect. I owe nothing, no money being made, no copyright infringement intended.

A/N: My last GuyxMarian Secret Santa gift, this one was for bettyeyes.

Warning: I'm still the same romantic fool and even if I don't think sex solves any problems, it is the best wordless communicator of love between a committed couple. At its best. ;-)

COLD NIGHT

By New Years', Guy would have been sheriff for a whole year. It had been turbulent and absorbing, getting the favour of Prince John and getting enough money to satisfy King Richard. All the official work and the budding surprise from both nobles and peasants when they realised that Gisborne was a different sheriff from his former master and their former sheriff had given him satisfaction, and also a sense of purpose.

But now it was Christmas Eve, and it was finally time to go home to Locksley with a small company of guards that had families in the village. The snow was deep and more was coming. It would be a hard ride and they ought to wait until morning. But they all had good reasons to brave the inclement weather.

Guy had his fur-lined leather coat, but it was not enough to keep the chill out. It was a heavy ride in the storm; the torches kept going out and the horses were walking on, slowly and despondently.

The frigidness went into the very bones and made them all feel empty inside. And Guy was reminded of another bone-deep chill and emptiness inside, of a time when nothing or no one truly mattered, of a time when loneliness was his only real companion, but never a friend.

The horrible chill this Christmas Eve made it all so real again and while he urged his horse to trot forward, that old feeling crept over him as an evil, forgotten ghost. The feeling of being lonely and unloved and the conviction that his lonely state would never change. Because he was doomed, forever doomed. And when they finally saw the warming lights of Locksley, Guy was quite miserable when he should be feeling happy. He only nodded to his men as they wished him good-night.

Thornton came forward to greet him, but immediately recognised the shadow over his master's brow and remembered what it meant. He merely nodded and Gisborne passed him by.

Guy ran upstairs, thinking that this foul mood was better suited for a man being alone. But he was not a lone man anymore. Entering his bedchamber, he saw a meal waiting for him and two goblets on a table. One person had been waiting for him, eaten alone and left enough for him. This same person was in his bed and all he could see was the sleeping form under a large, warm duvet.

There was still a fire burning in the grate and Guy stoked it. Next to it were some towels. He took off his gloves and coat and hastily dried his hair and face with one of the towels but stubbornly denied himself the pleasure of warming up his hands by the fire. He lit a candle and sat down, had some good wine and fine venison with fresh bread, but it gave him no joy.

The woman - his wife - moved under the covers; still asleep. He had sent word of his homecoming this evening and she had been waiting and preparing for it, waiting for the man she had married. Not the man that had returned. She had waited for over a week; his duties and the weather had kept him away from her side. They had not been apart for so long since their wedding.

Looking at the bed, he felt his heart aching; a feeling at last. Was he not truly dead inside, after all? Was there still hope for him, hope for his lost soul? The only one who had ever been able to nourish it was the woman lying there. But how could she be happy, when he had returned as the man she had once abhorred?

The new-stoked fire began to warm a bit, but Guy was still very cold. He realised how well he needed to go to bed and find warmth, next to his wife. The feelings inside him pulled his mind apart. Did he deserve to lie down by her side? She made his life fulfilling but did not deserve a man who had regressed into hia former state of emptiness. A state that was always threatening within him. A state that manifested itself in his dark, twisted nightmares, when she was sometimes dead in his arms - a cold creature in white against his black attire under a hot, merciless sun.

His wife moved under the covers again and mumbled something unintelligible. Everything in their home and their bedchamber was a tell-tale of her anticipation of his return and he felt a stir within his chest. He might at least sleep next to her. He removed his jacket, boots and leather-pants but kept his braes, tunic and socks on. He did not want to wake her with his coldness.

Silently and carefully, he sneaked under the covers, trying not to alert her. But she noticed. She turned, slid closer to him and sneaked into his embrace in one, fluent motion.

"Guy..." she whispered into his chest in a sleepy but surprised voice. Her warm, soft body was pressed against his. Round arms and warm hands were on him. She shuddered when she felt how cold he was, but embraced him all the same. "Oh, Guy... You're home..." she mumbled. He could hear joy in her voice and feel her warm lips on his cheek.

And it provoked such pain, as if he had been pierced by a spear. Her warmth and tenderness showered over him and his coldness. The feelings inside him made the same rupture as boiling water on ice. But it was a good pain, a needed pain. A pain that was making him a man with a soul again, she was caressing and loving him back to her.

He heard her mumble his name again, her hands rubbing his cold frame. He clutched her close to him, both of them shivering by the clash of hot and cold. His hands were slowly gaining warmth from touching her naked skin, moving over her curves with growing need.

"Kiss me, Guy..."

His face had been buried in her hair, carefully keeping his frigid lips to himself. Kissing her would surely expose his emptiness to her, breaking them apart forever. But she insisted, pulling at him and reaching for him until their lips met. And no matter how empty and cold he might have felt when he entered their home, no old ghost of a feeling could match the warmth of her love, the love that pushed him back into vibrant life and colour. Her lips were merciless, making a hot sensation shooting through his whole body and forcing all iciness away.

He drowned in their kiss and it was pain again, like being under water too long. It was shocking how he suddenly had gone back into a former state but equally shocking how quickly she managed to win him back to the good side – and she did it because she loved him. If there had been any icy emptiness in him, her lips moving over his had melted it all away just by being her.

But she loved him. Loved him, the doomed man. Not because she had to or because she wanted to. She just did. Loved the man he was, no matter in what state he returned home. And now, the searing pain nearly brought him to tears. He broke the kiss and pulled her closer again, hiding his head against her neck. Her tender fingers in his hair brought distress but also hope. For the first time since he had left Nottingham, his soul, that had forced him to silence, now force him to speak:

"Marian... My Marian..." he mumbled in a broken voice.

She made a sound, something between a sob and a chuckle, and cradled his head against her bosom. He lips were hot on his forehead and her hands were pulling at his tunic. He was quickly catching on, pulling it over his head and kissing her with the ardour she had ignited in him while their hands collaborated to get his braes off.

They were soon embracing skin on skin and he entered her without further ado. She gasped and whined, mostly because his body was still chilled and he was piercing her like cold steel. If her sudden grip and sunken nails on his shoulders was his punishment, he was ready to take it. She was hot and ready for him and the contrast was nearly too much – like falling into white light. He groaned behind clenched teeth and felt her relax under him. Her legs embraced him as well as her arms and she moved against him.

The knowledge of her body and the knowledge of her need helped him on, finding the angle that pleased her so much. Soon, she rewarded him with a heated moan in his ear. They kissed again, languidly this time. She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes for the first time since he came home. His breath caught in his throat by seeing her blissful expression. He kissed her again with open eyes and slowly started to move inside her again. The sensation made her eyes unfocused.

In rhythm with their lovemaking, he felt her feet and calves rubbing against his legs more eagerly than usual, while her arms pinned him close to her. She was intent on warming him inside and out. Like everything she did, she did it well and it made him smile. He smiled against her neck and kissed her there, all the while thrusting inside her and feeling her shudder and gasp with pleasure.

"Love you, Marian... Love you..." he whispered and felt a fever rise in him.

"I love you, Guy!" she moaned when they moved harder and faster and he felt her cramp around him.

Their kiss stifled their groans as they reached the finale together.

"I missed you... so much..." she mumbled when they embraced under the duvet, both warm.

"I missed you too," he muttered. "More than words can say."

"I know," she answered and squeezed him. "Better now?"

"Mmm..." he agreed and smiled.

"Thought so," she said contentedly. "It will always be better when you come home to me."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise. Merry Christmas, by the way!"

"Merry Christmas, Marian."


End file.
